


One and Only

by lilithiumwords



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Character Death, Dark, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Insanity, M/M, Madness, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Soul Bond, Violence, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He sees it now, the madness that will overtake his One as it has taken him, the grief and despair as they try to reconcile a bond that was never meant to exist this way, was meant to be whole and bright and perfect, but he can only see darkness.</i>
</p><p>Thorin is already lost when he meets his One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One and Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KaavyaWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaavyaWriting/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Pain-Bearer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/628384) by [lilithiumwords](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilithiumwords/pseuds/lilithiumwords). 



> "What if Thorin was taken by Azog instead of Bilbo in _Pain-Bearer_? But if he couldn't be like Bilbo, if he broke from the guilt and pain -- and what if Bilbo found him later? But Thorin was already lost?"
> 
>  **Word meanings** :  
>  _Shiikol izish-ûr_ \-- Scream for me  
>  _Umùradmelek_ \-- My one and only  
>  _gajut_ \-- forgive me

_" Shiikol izish-ûr,"_ Azog murmurs, dragging Thorin's head back by his hair, long claws sliding low over Thorin's stomach. Thorin says nothing, staring down at the furs of their bed, but he does not remain silent long -- as Azog suddenly digs his claws in, the same time he bites down on Thorin's neck.

He screams.

He whimpers, he cries, he wails and keens and _screams_ , begs every time Azog hurts him -- but he knows Azog will never give him relief, knows that within these walls, he is nothing. He has no one. Azog killed them all -- ripped Dís' head from her shoulders as he raped her, threw Fíli into a den of hungry Wargs and laughed as he was torn apart, left Kíli to the mercies of three Trolls -- not to mention Dwalin, and Balin, and so many of Thorin's precious people. Gone.

Dead.

Over and over in his mind, Thorin hears their dying screams, hears every break of every bone -- can still smell the blood -- and he is trapped within his own hell.

Azog kept him alive, and Thorin cannot see anything but the misery he himself brought to his people, to himself. It was _his fault._ Every lash, every beating, every cruel word that Azog whispers into his skin -- he deserves, because if he had not been so stubborn, if he had not dragged his kin here, if he had not _existed_ \-- then they would be alive.

He has nothing. Azog owns him, body and soul, and nothing else matters. Tortured, haunted, despairing, and he cares not what happens to him. Mahal knows that he deserves it.

Azog finishes with him, after Thorin has pleaded and bowed his head and grabbed at Azog's hands, and leaves him bleeding on the furs. There are drums in the distance and Azog looks furious, but Thorin cares little. He is only glad that Azog leaves. He sleeps, then, and dreams of Dís' eyes when her head rolls toward him, empty of life but free of pain.

He wakes to dark eyes looking down at him in shock, from beneath dark blond curls, and he suddenly _feels_ \-- knows deep to the stone of his bones that this creature came here for him. Is meant for _him._

"Oh, you poor creature," the vision whispers, reaching down to touch Thorin's face, and for a moment Thorin can only smell cloves. Then he gasps as the touch burns into his mind, at the sudden knowledge that _this is his match_ and perhaps, perhaps he is not completely alone, perhaps he was kept alive for a reason --

The creature, who says that he is Bilbo and that he is here to save Thorin, looks at the room with disgust and Thorin simply watches him, truth brightening his mind. This is his One. Whatever creature he is, this person is his One, and Thorin is broken. Thorin is lost to his own mind, and how can his One deserve that? He sees it now, the madness that will overtake his One as it has taken him, the grief and despair as they try to reconcile a bond that was never meant to exist this way, was meant to be whole and bright and perfect, but he can only see darkness.

Thorin knows what he must do.

 _" Umùradmelek,"_ Thorin murmurs, and Bilbo's dark eyes turn back to him, piercing and soft, so soft.

"What is it? Are you in pain? Come on, we should go," his One whispers, stepping closer to tug at Thorin's arm. Thorin reaches up to him, the thought clear in his mind -- _they cannot live like this_ \-- and he watches as Bilbo begins to thrash. Watches as dark eyes fix on him, pleading, desperate -- and Thorin feels nothing but satisfaction, knowing he can protect at least this.

The pale neck beneath his fingers snaps far too easily.

Gently, carefully, Thorin lays his beloved out on the furs and kneels above him. He has one of Azog's weapons, to cut his own throat -- he has the blade inches from his neck -- when he hears a shout, and he turns to see a Wizard standing in the doorway. Thorin stares, then dismisses him, but those precious seconds are too long -- for Dwarves sweep into the room and grab Thorin, pull him away from his One. Then Thorin is screaming, because he _needs to be with his One_ and he is babbling and crying and reaching for Bilbo, whose head is turned toward him, dark eyes empty of the kindness that Thorin had dreamed of for so long.

He falters, knowing for a moment that it is because of him.

Then the guards drag him away.

He does not remember much else. They lock him in a cell with a bolted bed of pine and soft furs that smell of cloves. He is fed and left alone, and time is lost to him -- he burns for the touch of his One, for the eyes that looked to him in pleading, for the smile he will never know.

He lives for a long, long time in the darkness, in the silence of his cell and the screaming in his mind.

 _It was not meant to be like this_ \--

On his last breaths, Thorin reaches out to the darkness, to the light that is growing beyond his eyelids, to the dark eyes and sweet smile that he never got to see -- _gajut_ \--

Then he knows nothing at all.

He wakes to warmth, to a protective embrace of a being so much greater than him. "Rest, son of my sons. I will take care of you," a deep voice of stone and fire and everything Thorin has always loved says into his ear, and Thorin falls back into that oblivion. The madness seeps from his mind, cast away by the light of his Maker, and Thorin heals, slowly, dreaming of dark eyes and a soft smile and a low laugh.

_"Thorin."_

When he wakes again, he knows himself. He lies on a bed of stone in simple garb, and he is in Mahal's halls. For a moment he is bewildered because he does not deserve to be here. But a great hand descends over him and strokes his hair back, and Thorin looks up into the face of his Maker.

"You are home, Thorin. You are whole again. Rest easy in my halls, and do not fear the darkness again," his Maker says to him, and for a moment Thorin believes him, knows he is safe -- but then he remembers.

"My one and only," he whispers brokenly.

Mahal only smiles. "My wife is kind and patient, and it was she who first said to me, 'Give this one to him.' She thought, after, that she had made a mistake, but no. You were always meant to be with him," Mahal says, and then a sweet voice joins him, strong like a tree and vibrant like the sun. He smells grass then, and he thinks of the fields outside Erebor, of the flowers in the summer.

"And I am sorry, child of my husband, for not seeing that it was not yet the right time," his Maker's wife says, and she is beautiful -- but beyond her, Thorin sees dark curls hiding behind her shoulder, and he freezes.

Then she steps aside, and there is Bilbo. Frowning at him, but with eyes bright with life, whole and healthy and perfect, for all that Thorin killed him, but there is no blame in those dark eyes, only a gentle love that pierces him.

"Thorin," Bilbo whispers, face screwed up with small tears, and Thorin aches, burns to see him crying -- but then Bilbo's frown melts into a smile, and he wipes at his eyes.

"I've been waiting for you, you stubborn Dwarf," Bilbo says then, and when he reaches for Thorin, Thorin realizes that he is crying as well.

He reels when they touch, as he did the first time, and Bilbo laughs, a noise that Thorin has dreamed of for ages. His heart feels that much lighter just hearing it. He sits up and pulls Bilbo close, pressing their foreheads together, and they are both weeping, clutching each other's hands.

"My madness," Thorin gasps, but Bilbo shakes his head.

"You were _hurt_ , and I was -- it's alright, Thorin. It's okay now. We have all of time now," Bilbo tells him, and Thorin feels his throat burn.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and Bilbo kisses him, sweetly. Maybe Thorin can earn those kisses in time -- because he never wants to take Bilbo for granted. He always wants to cherish this perfection. He does not deserve it -- should never have even _thought_ of violence toward his One, and he is so, _so sorry_ \--

"Never be."


End file.
